Flesh is strikingly redolent of its time: morally vacant, stylish, lightweight, daring, but also dreary. It represents everything people both love and hate about the 1960s.

It's at least interesting. It isn't very good, though; if it hadn't come from New York under Warhol's sponsorship, we'd never have seen it.

Much like Warhol, Morrissey demonstrates a clear interest in both minimalism and duration; every scene purposely feels like it's being stretched to its breaking point... But Morrissey shows a far greater appreciation for camp than his filmmaking partner.

Flesh offers a funny look at the underbelly of the city.